Circus, Circus
by butterflygirly99
Summary: The golden trio- seemingly perfect on the outside. Keyword being 'seemingly'. We all have our demons that haunt us, as do they.


**A/N: Written for:**

**1) QLFC Semi-Finals- start with the sentence "_A blissful smile was left on her lips."_**

**2) The Build-A-Bear Challenge- A Bear: Bears are fierce animals. Write about a _Gryffindor._**

**3) The Dark Things Competition- #7- Grave**

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><p><strong>Circus, Circus<strong>

**The Tightrope Walker**

A blissful smile was left on her lips. However, the rest of her was dead. She died protecting him, and sadly, it was the only memory he had left of his mother.

His life was a circus, and he was the tightrope walker, walking the line of good and evil. Most perceived him as the ring leader, but he never could fill that role. He was simply the tightrope walker.

He was yet to fall, so he continued to walk the line with perfect balance, _as usual_. But even a boy as extraordinary as him would wobble, and eventually fall. When he finally fell, it seemed like evil had finally won, but the power of good is stronger- it _always_ is, so he survived and good triumphed.

But despite evil's final loss, evil _always_ left casualties. People he loved. People he loathed. People he barely knew.

Dead.

Gone.

_Forgotten._

But he refused to forget. Before apparating to the site, he had stopped at a nearby muggle shop and bought exactly six red roses- _I love you, I miss you, I'm sorry_. Buying the flowers just seemed more personal than using magic to conjure up a bouquet.

To the unknowing eye, he seemed like just a normal person, placing flowers on the grave's of his loved ones, mourning his parents, and paying his respects. But somehow, it was so much more.

He was making sure they would be remembered.

He would get up on the that tightrope once again, just to make sure they were remembered. All of them.

He'd remember his mother's blissful smile and his father's final sacrifice. He'd remember Sirius, Fred, and Dumbledore who would never let anything get them down. He would remember Tonks and Lupin and how they fought until the end.

And he will be the tightrope walker for the rest of his life, because nothing he could do would bring any of them back.

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><p><strong>The Lion Tamer<strong>

She was always the strong, smart, _sensible_ one. She was the rock of the group, forced to keep her demons in check and be the voice of logic. Whenever they'd catch a bit of her broken soul, she hid it. She may have been the lion tamer on the outside, but she was a broken china doll within.

Unknown to most, she had lost her parents, as well, in a way almost more horrifying than death. She had found them in Australia and returned their memories, but it would never be the same.

They would forget the little things- like birthdays and anniversaries and often be lost an dazed. She'd often curse herself for being such a good witch- casting a spell so well it's effects would never fully wear off, no matter what was done. Her best wouldn't be enough. She had dug that grave far to deep to be filled.

But she was the lion tamer, so she would have to stay strong, but dancing with tigers leaves scars- ones that _never_ fade.

Others would look at her with envy. Few could match her wit and will, as well as power. But, her scars were in places they would never see...or more like places she would never let them see and they would always follow her, but she'd always be strong and tame the lions, fight her demons, and be the rock that they needed.

Sometimes, if she tries hard enough, and the light slants through the windows in just the right way, she can pretend everything is okay and normal, and she can convince herself of that.

She'll pretend like she spends her days thinking about new haircut or the next quidditch match. In fact she'd even be willing to go back to school to distract her (after all, she does have one year left). Sometimes she would meet up with her old friends- now teachers, writers, and even models (she'd envy them they way they used to envy her). They wouldn't have the scars she had, and her smiles with them would only ever be pretend.

But pretending would never make it real.

She is the broken lion tamer with scars galore, but she'll still be strong and she will still be the rock no matter what it takes.

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><p><strong>The Clown<strong>

He would always be the sidekick. _Never_ the main attraction. There are too many better acts in the show for him to be remembered, much less adored.

For the few seconds in the spotlight her earns, he is never even taken seriously. He is simply the joke added to the show, for no apparent reason. No one would ever marvel at his bravery or contributions. No one would marvel at his skills or wit. They would always marvel as the fearless tightrope walker or the brilliant lion tamer, never a measly clown.

He had never had the spotlight to begin with. After all, even the clown car that belonged to his family was always too small to fit room for him, and the death of his brother only shrunk the car even more.

The smile painted on his face everyday, was truly painted on. He had seen to much, _lost_ too much to for that smile to remain real.

He'd laugh and be the life of the party, only laughing so there was some light within the darkness, but the light would never last when he was alone (not that anyone would care). He was a sideshow freak, and no amount of laughter or jokes could change that.

When they were younger, he and the tightrope walker used to argue over who would get the last chocolate frog. In the end, they'd laugh because it had been out of the packaging so long, it had simply hopped away, neither of them in the mood to run after it.

Now they're older, and his own laugh is now weighted down with demons, while the tightrope walker _always_ gets the last chocolate frog. The smile he wears looks stitched on, the corners of his mouth forced up. Only those who look closely can notice it, but no one ever bothers.

Why bother wasting time on the clown? Why not bother with something better? He was living in the grave the world dug for him, with no one to help him out.

Slapped on smile and forced laughs, but he is still the clown. Always the joke. He'd always be the sidekick, and nothing more.

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><p><em><strong>Golden together, broken apart, but know one can ever know what they really are. Never.<strong>_

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><p><strong>AN: Word Count: 1,086 (without A/N's)**


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